


Nights

by midnight_drabbler



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Insomnia, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Pre-relationship/relationship establishment (eventually), Romance development
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnight_drabbler/pseuds/midnight_drabbler
Summary: Jaal and Ryder keep bumping into each other at night, and grow closer over time. They share information about their lives, and their perceptions of the world and the galaxy beyond. Sara calls it the Insomniac Club, and she has no idea what Jaal calls it. SAM plays a minor role in the first chapter and other characters are mentioned, but centers around Jaal & Sara.There is brief mention of anxiety/panic attacks in the first chapter of this fic, just FYI.Rated T for now, but will likely (90% chance) change later on.





	1. Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> This fic includes dialogue! I realise that's not rare, but I usually write internal monologues and those sorts of things, rather than external conversations. I'm dipping my toes in before I try to work in smut as well. I'm still feeling out the characters, and trying not to make them OOC. 
> 
> Also, there is a very small part of this story which discusses anxiety and panic attacks. I wrote this as a person who lives with both, and its written in a self deprecating kind of way. It is not intended to be offensive. It will work in as part of Ryder's character in later chapters of this fic.
> 
> Lastly, I don't have a beta, and am not great at proofreading (I get overexcited and just want to post) so if you find typos let me know!

**Chapter One: Pancakes**

Ryder huffs and rolls onto her stomach, smooshing her face into the pillow. Her eyes firmly shut, she tries to empty her mind but unbidden the events of the day nag at her. They’d gotten back late form a battle against the Roekaar on Havarl, and her mind had been awhirl since then.

Sara always made sure that she let them have the first shot. She always faintly hoped that they would see her olive branch and take it. Truly she did not want to fight the angara. She couldn’t help but think it reflected on her badly, with the Moshae, Evfra, and most importantly Jaal. When she returned to Aya, she considered the faces of the angarans as she passed and wondered how many of their families she had come across in the field. How many brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters…

She flopped onto her back with an indignant huff. She was never going to be able to sleep.

“SAM?” she whispered, a habit developed from many years of sleeping in close quarters.

“Yes Ryder?” it replied, maintaining a similar volume to hers.

“How long until morning training?” she muttered, rubbing her eyes blearily.

“Four hours and fifty-two minutes.” SAM replied.

Ryder was pleased that he’d remembered not to provide the seconds to her this time – after the hundredth time she had explained that it was completely unnecessary in non-combat situations. She sighed heavily, before throwing the sheets back and sitting up. Slowly she stretched her shoulders, tense from being hunched behind cover, before throwing her legs to the side of the bed and pulling herself upright.

She walked over to the door grimacing as her knees and ankles cracked loudly. Stopping briefly to turn her fan off, she headed down to the galley.

“SAM? How likely am I to wake the crew?” she murmured as the door whooshed open.

“The majority of the crew are currently in the deeper stages of sleep, between stage 3 REM and NREM. I detect only three vitals that indicate consciousness.”

“And where might they be?” Sara asked, while searching through the cupboards for a food packet. She pulled it down from the shelf, smiling softly. Pancake mix! Vetra had found it for her among the supplies in storage on the Nexus.

Admittedly, the mix was not as good as homemade, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. All she was really looking for was a taste of home; her mother had always loved pancake breakfasts with her and Scott. She cracked the lid, filled the jug to the line with water, and gave the jug a hearty shake.

“Lexi is in the medbay,” SAM stated as Sara nodded, completely unsurprised. “Kallo is in the cockpit, and Jaal is in the crew quarters across the hall. Ryder hummed quietly to herself, nodding, as she searched in the cupboards and draws for a frying pan.

She scoffed when she found it; clearly no one liked having dish duty. The pots and pans had all been forced into a single cupboard, and the door shut. Clearly a problem that everyone was deferring for now. She squatted down to assess the situation - she was going to need Indiana Jones type moves to pull this off.

“The probability of pulling this off successfully is 16%,” SAM chimed.

Sara lifted some of the pots with one hand, the other wrapped around the handle of the pan. “Thanks for the encouragement,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

Her weight was precariously balanced on the balls of her feet. She wiggled the pan, and pulled it forward a few centimetres. The surrounding dishes creaked ominously. Ryder halted, wobbling slightly.

“Move the pot closest to your left hand three centimetres to the left.” SAM suggested.

“Now that’s helpful!” she exclaimed, still in a whisper.

Following SAM’s instructions, she managed to pull the desired pan free.

“Success!” she hooted, before remembering her surroundings. It was also at that point that she realised the pile of dishes to the right were slipping.

“Ryder, the sound that the spill will cause has a 97.3% chance of waking those in the crew quarters – excluding Drack.” Drack was a notoriously heavy sleeper, who frequently managed to nap in the back of the Nomad. A feat within itself.

“I know that SAM.” She set the frypan on the floor quickly, before trying to shove the pots back into the cupboard with both hands.

It was at that point that someone else entered the galley, unbeknownst to Ryder, who admittedly was somewhat distracted at the time. She had almost fixed everything, and was mentally patting herself on the back before noticing a sneaky potlid that was trying to escape!

Her ankle creaked, before letting out a loud crack. Her leg collapsed under her, and she fell on her butt with a soft thud, right into the legs behind her.

“Oof.” The air escaped her, as she let her weight rest against the sturdiness at her back.

Clothed knees came into her view, stretching into the space under her arms, as two arms reached over her shoulders and shoved all of the pots, pans, and lids back in before snapping the door shut quickly. Lucky bastard and his giant hands.

He was wrapped around her, like a warm angaran backpack. In her position, all she could see was the purple of his skin and his grey clothes. Taking a deep breath, she realised that she could smell him, sharp and clean – like lemon balm. She took another little sniff, trying not to be _too_ obvious.

“Ryder, what are you doing?” Jaal asked, his voice rumbling in his chest, sending little shocks through her skin.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she sighed as Jaal planted his hands on her hips and stood her back up. He stayed close to her though chest to chest, her back against the bench, as if he didn’t trust her to stand on her own yet. She wondered if he felt what she did when they touched, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him.

He looked down at her, which looked strange without his visor on. “I see that.” He said. “It does not answer my question though.” Peering around her, he surveyed the area; the jug of batter on the bench, the pan on the floor, and her standing in front of him with mussed hair wearing a tired smile.

“Are you cooking?” Jaal queried.

“Technically, not yet,” she replied, in her typically smartass manner. “But soon I will be!”

His nose wiggled as he scented the air. Still very close, his hips only inches away and his hands braced against the bench on either side of her. It was truly distracting, being so close to the purple, marbled man. With the wiggly nose, he looked even more feline.

“What is it that you are making?” He asked, turning to face her again.

“Pancakes!” She exclaimed, picking up one of Jaal’s wrists between her thumb and forefinger. Surely he helped her, or had avian bones all of a sudden, as he was much easier to move than she would have imagined. Nevertheless, she extricated herself from his grip. “Feel free to take a seat if you feel like staying.” She said softly, remembering those sleeping down the hall, and gesturing to the nearby chairs.

He turned slowly, walking over to the chair and gingerly seating himself. He looked uncomfortable, like sitting idle was a rare occurrence for him. This did not surprise Sara in the slightest.

“What are you doing up Jaal?” Sara ducked down and grabbed the pan from the floor, and gave it a quick wipe before setting it on the stove. She flicked the element on, and turned back to Jaal while she waited for the pan to heat up.

Jaal flicked his head to the side before looking down at his current position. “Ryder… I am seated.” He said, so gravely that Sara had to stifle a laugh. He was looking at her as though she’d just tried to tell him that the sky was green, or that she’d asked Kallo to fly everywhere backwards.

She smiled at him, walked over to grab the butter out of the fridge, and used a nearby knife to pop some into the pan. It simmered, and she turned to Jaal again, whose nose looked as though it was about to shimmy itself right off his face.

“I was trying to ask why you are still awake this late.” She asked again, rephrasing the question so that it could be more easily understood. She had forgotten that neither of them had their omnitools. Instead, they were both wearing their standard issue Initiative pajamas.

Admittedly, pjs in Jaal’s size were few and far between. His shirt was stretched a little tight, but she supposed that he mustn’t have been uncomfortable as he had chosen to wear it. The soft pants were an inch too short, and she could see his pointy purple ankles.

“My family had sent me some correspondence. I was trying to make sure that I had not missed anything.” He set one arm down on the table, and clenched his fist briefly before relaxing it again. She watched the tendons flare out before hiding away again. “I miss them greatly.”

The look on his face was heartbreaking, and she was sure that she probably looked about the same when thinking about Scott. When her father had died, she hadn’t cried for long, as they had been fairly distanced for most of her adult life. What she truly found difficult was not being able to talk to Scott; not being able to laugh, roughhouse, or just generally annoy each other as siblings do.

She nodded, turning back to her pan and swirling the melted butter around, before pouring some batter into the pan. “I know that feeling,” was all she said.

“Is that what is keeping you awake Ryder?” he asked, the angaran equivalent of an eyebrow raised.

“Nah,” she replied, grapping an egg flip before continuing. “I mean, it’s always something in the background, but tonight it was something else.” She watched little bubbles form in the batter, before flipping the pancake, grinning to herself when she saw the colour. Not too blonde. Perfect!

“Do you often have trouble sleeping?” he rumbled from behind her, and she could practically feel his eyes watching her as she moved around in front of the stove.

She sighed. Again. She sighed a lot, truth be told. “I have had trouble sleeping for a long time.” She transferred her weight from one had to the other, and grabbing two plates out of a nearby cupboard. “I’m tired, but I can’t relax. I can be exhausted, but I lay down and all these thoughts flood in.” She moved her pancake from the pan before pouring more batter.

“I had a similar problem when I began working for the Resistance.” She looked over her shoulder, and saw him gazing back at her with a look that she couldn’t define. As though they were similar, despite being so different. She turned away, flipped her pancake, as he finished his thought. “I suppose that I still do.”

She nodded again. “Lexi keeps telling me that I should find someone that I can talk to. Someone who’ll understand.” She laughs softly, “I tried talking to SAM, but the experience was… limited. As much as it tries.” Jaal just nodded, as if this were a given.

“What king of experience are you looking for from this talk?” he queried, not missing a beat. She moved her pancake out of the pan and onto the plate. She poured three little pikelets into the pan, all the while wondering how it was possible that Jaal always seemed so nonchalant and effortlessly confident.

“I guess someone that understands, in non-clinical way. Someone that has lived through similar experiences.” She rubbed at her eyes, and flicked the heat setting down even lower.

“I believe that I could be that someone.” He replied, looking at her earnestly. Her insides felt funny, like they’d decided to all roll over at once.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said. She switched the stove off and flipped the pikelets, letting the residual heat in the pan cook them through. She walked over to the cupboard, digging through all the condiments to find something that she wanted. She was sure the syrup was in here somewhere.

“I volunteered, Sara.” He said it pointedly, and she wondered if her off the bat rejection had offended him. She braced her hand against the bench, pulling her legs up so that she was kneeling. It sucked being short. You can’t see anything from the ground!

She heard the chair scrape behind her, and she felt Jaal before he reached her. Her singlet had ridden up after her manoeuvre, and the exposed skin broke into goosebumps as he approached. She felt the cotton of his shirt brush against her bare skin as he leaned over her, peering into the cupboard over her shoulder.

Sara was sure he must be teasing her with his bioelectricity. Lexi had told her that he was capable of transferring it to others, particularly when he was feeling extra-strongly. He looked unaffected though, she conceded that perhaps she had just swallowed ten frogs without realising. Surely that was the cause of this lump in her throat.

“What are you looking for?” his skin brushed hers, as he removed the jars and tins at the front of the shelf. Meanwhile, her hand was flailing around down the back, looking for a glass bottle.

“It’s called maple syrup. Its sweet, sticky, brown, and has to be here somewhere!”

The lemon balm smell, mixed with the butter, and the pancakes made the room smell like a delicious fritter. Her stomach growled, and she took the chance to breathe deeply. Her chest swelled, and her sideboob brushed the inside of his forearm.

He whipped out a bottle, showing her the label. “This one?”

“Nope. That’s soy sauce. Definitely not going to work.” She gave up and let her hand flop to her side, still kneeling on the bench.

He put it on the bench with the other rejected condiments, before delving back in. “This one?”

She briefly wondered if he could read English without his omnitool. Turning the bottle over, she shook her head and placed it on the counter. “That one is golden syrup. It different, but maple syrup will be a similar consistency.” She reconsidered quickly, “Closer to that one, than the first one.”

Golden syrup was always Scott’s favourite; sometimes with berries, sometimes with lemon, but always with golden syrup. Sara remembered them fighting over which was more superior when they were younger. She was a staunch supporter of maple syrup.

“Ryder?” she shook her head a little, to clear her thoughts. “This is the only other bottle on this shelf.” He handed it to her, and their fingers brushed. She felt tingly and warm.

“That’s the one!” she grinned. He closed the cupboard door, and took a step back from her. She twisted around, unfolding her legs so that they swung off the edge of the bench. Sara removed the lid, breathing deeply before holding the bottle out to him.

He leaned toward her, placing his hand over hers, and tilted the bottle a little more. His nose wiggled again as he sniffed. Jaal tilted his head in consideration, before dipping his head for another smell.

“You can always try some? If you want?” Sara offered, having no idea what angarans did or did not eat.

“I would like that,” he replied, voice deeper than before. He turned away, and grabbed a spoon out of the drawer before returning to her. He held it out to her expectantly. “Please.”

She laughed again. “Who’s teaching you human manners?” If it had been anyone else, she would have grabbed their wrist to steady the spoon. Jaal however, looked as if nothing would be able to move him. She poured him a bit of the syrup.

“I have been spending some time with Suvi.” He said, looking intently at his spoon, as he made his way back to the chair. It reminded her of kids playing egg and spoon races. “She has been teaching about human spirituality, and… other things.”

Ryder rolled her eyes and hopped off the bench, pulling a pikelet from the pan. They were warm, but had lost some of their heat. She’d just take the others as lunch when they went planet side tomorrow, or later today as the case may be.

She plopped her pikelet on the plate, then used the syrup bottle to pour two thick lines of syrup through the middle. She placed the bottle down, and wrapped up the pikelet like a tortilla. A delicious sugary tortilla.

Ryder bit into the pikelet and sighed, the taste exciting her tastebuds and brought back memories at the same time. When she turned to Jaal, she almost choked. He was suckling on his spoon, as though it were an angaran lollipop.

She grinned, and took another bite. “It’s good, isn’t it?” she asked around a mouthful of food.

Jaal’s reply was a low noise in his throat. He slouched in his chair, stretching his legs. Sara ate the last piece of the pikelet, and licked her fingers clean. She put her plate into the sink, and looked down at the other one; two pancakes and two pikelets left. She wasn’t even hungry anymore. Maybe she’d needed the memories more than the food itself.

That probably wasn’t too healthy. She’d have to consider whether to broach the subject with Lexi.

Jaal put the spoon back down onto the table. It gleamed. He’d licked it completely clean. “Very good.” He said, licking his lips. “What were we discussing?”

“I think you wanted to be my support person,” she replied, putting the second plate into the fridge. “And, as much as the offer was very sweet-”

He nodded, “Ah yes, you rejected my offer.” His face lost some of its earlier exuberance. “Tell me why.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and rested her butt against the bench. “Well, you haven’t been on the crew very long.” She began, trying to think on her feet. “And I don’t want to burden you with anything.”

It wasn’t that she wouldn’t like to vent to Jaal, because honestly, she enjoyed his company. Plus, she enjoyed the way that he was able to distract her from everything else going on. She wanted a distraction, but she didn’t want to ruin their developing relationship. Surely, he couldn’t believe in her as a Pathfinder if he knew all her niggly little worries. She had plenty of those. Most of the time, she could hide them away, and not let anyone know that after high stakes missions she locked herself in her quarters while she hyperventilated and cried. Panic attacks, did not a Pathfinder make. Of this she was sure.

“Is it customary of humans to offer to do things that they have no interest in?” Jaal asked, looking confused.

Sara considered before replying, “It actually is fairly common, but no its not standard across the species.” Jaal made a face as if to say _odd humans_ and pushed ahead with his point.

“It is not customary for angara.” He rose from his chair, and walked over to her. She did not move her feet, only moving to ensure that she could still maintain his eyeline. “I would like to know you better. I feel that you are… intriguing.” He put his hand on her shoulder, lightly, and her skin reacted by breaking into goosebumps again.

“Intriguing, eh?” She hoped that her voice only sounded weird to her. “I suppose that we could try it.”

Jaal smiled. A toothy smile, that she thought was super cute. She’d never seen him look so relaxed, meanwhile, she was sure that her blood was pulsing around at some godforsaken speed.

“I look forward to it,” he brought a hand to her face, and moved a hair out of her eyes. Then he ran the tip of a finger over her cupid’s bow, softer than she would have thought possible for someone of his size. Like a butterfly’s touch.

Then suddenly, he spun on his foot and headed off toward the door. As the doors whooshed again, he turned to her.

“Syrup.” Was all he said, as he popped his finger in his mouth, and walked right out the door. All purple limbs, grey pajamas, and just so much sass.

She licked her lips, squeaked, and placed a hand in her hair. _What had just happened?_

She walked over to the door and flicked off the lights, promising herself that she’d come back and clean up the sink full of dishes in the morning.

 

{…}

 

A message found on the infoboard later that same morning…

_Could people please clean up their own mess when using the galley? It is everyone’s responsibility to keep the shared areas clean! [Cora]_

_> _ It wasn’t me this time! [Peebee]

>> Me neither. [Gil]

 


	2. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaal and Sara bump into each other again in a late night interlude. They grow closer, and discover more about one another in another meeting of the insomniac club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I did intend to update this story sooner, and I definitely didn't forget about it! My little dog ruptured a disc in her neck and it was quite time consuming, plus I had to work. 
> 
> Nevertheless, here is the next chapter. Let me know what you think! Anything that you'd like to see in they future, or things that you think could be improved.
> 
> Without further ado:

**Chapter Two: Discovery**

Sara entered the last few dregs of her report into the datapad resting in her lap. She was seated at the table in the conference room, where earlier that evening she’d checked in with Prodromos. The rest of the crew had long since retired to their respective rooms, and she assumed that they were treating themselves to some much needed shut eye.

 

She too would have loved to be able to lay her head on her pillow, and simply fall asleep. Unfortunately her body did not work that way. Instead, she lay awake and completed busy work and carefully noted encounters into reports which she would have happily never thought of again.

 

She signed off her report and set the datapad on the table before standing. Her back felt tight and strained. It was likely that she’d pulled a muscle or two. Bracing her hands against the table, she started bending backward to stretch out her back. She winced as she felt a rather large crack, before she dipped even lower. It was at that point she saw a flash of blue and purple-pink.

 

Sara made an odd squeaking noise and righted herself, before spinning on the ball of her foot.

 

“Sorry Jaal!” She leaned against the table, trying to change her position to something casual. She bent her knees slightly, and let the table support her weight. “I didn’t think that anyone was around.” She exhaled softly as she managed to shut her mouth.

 

Inwardly, she tried to quell her initial panicky reaction. _Surely a simple deep stretch couldn’t be offensive?_ Perhaps she was just being overly nervous, and he would think nothing of it. He didn’t often come across as a guy with strong inhibitions. She shook off her thoughts, forcing herself not to fall down a mental rabbit hole, and instead provided Jaal her undivided attention.

 

He was still wearing his rofjinn, but no visor. His arms were folded, and he had an amused smirk playing around his mouth. He moved to stand next to the railing at the head of the table, and rested his weight on his left leg. She smothered a laugh at his popped hip. He looked like a sassy dancer, but she could see that she had not offended him.

 

“Don’t stop on my account.” He waved a hand airily, as if to say ‘go on’. The smirk still played around his mouth, causing one corner to sit slightly higher than the other.

 

“Ah, but how could I maintain my gruff pathfinder exterior, if I did?” She raised an eyebrow in question.

 

He smiled then, and laughed softly. “Did you think that you had one?”

 

“I like to think that I strike fear into the hearts of our enemies.” She waved a hand regally, as though she were an actor. An overzealous one.

 

He leaned back against the railing, tilting his head slightly as he crossed his arms and took in the sight of her. “You certainly do during missions,” he conceded, before shaking his head. “However you are not fearsome to any of us who know you.”

 

“Would you prefer more of a distance from your leader?” She asked with a light voice, as though she were joking, but she hadn’t fully considered how Jaal saw her as a leader. Had never compared herself to Evfra, whom she imagined had been more separate from his resistance troops.

 

He made a thoughtful face, as he considered her question. His eyes moved over her face carefully, and she wondered what he was looking for. Whatever he wanted to see there, he must have found. “No,” was his simple answer.

 

This time she raised both her eyebrows, and waited for him to continue. He didn’t answer straight away. Sara had to actively force herself not to fill the silence.

 

When he did speak, all he said was: “you have facets”.

 

She moved from the table to a seat, and motioned for him to join her. Then tried, and failed, to avoid watching him as he pushed off the railing. And then, ignored the growing interest in the back of her mind.

 

He settled himself in the seat closest to her, and turned so that he was openly facing her. If it weren’t for his air of self-assuredness, it probably would have looked ridiculous. The chairs were not created with people of his proportions in mind, and he looked as though he’d folded himself up to take his seat. How he managed to look utterly at home despite having to rein himself in, was beyond her.

 

“I could not characterise you simply as ‘fearsome leader’.” He shrugged, an effortless rise and fall of his shoulder. “You are far more than that.”

 

It was silly how much enjoyment she took from that single statement. Back home, she had not been the type of woman who built herself up using the opinions of men. She supposed that if she had, she couldn’t have built herself up very high, as the two men closest to her had been her father and her brother. Her father had always been distant and detached, and while her brother was far better, when they had both worked in the Alliance, they had let time slip away and caught up only rarely and briefly. Aside from that, she’d had one love, and a series of forgettable relationships, and one misogynistic boss.

 

So no, she did not rely on the opinion of men to feed her self-esteem or self-worth. There was something different about Jaal though. A desire to know him further, understand his world view, and intuit his thoughts.

 

“I suppose that is true of most people,” she replied after a pause, too caught up in herself to say something deep or witty.

 

Jaal’s gaze moved to her face again. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak, so she drew her thoughts back to the matter at hand.

 

“What are you doing awake Jaal?” She looked at him, as he did her, and realised that he did not even look tired. He made a motion which seemed to indicate that he thought nothing of being awake at all hours of the night.

 

“I believe that Angara require less sleep then humans.”

 

She nodded. It was widely known around the ship that she was an insomniac, and that she would poke around the ship at odd hours, consisting off as little as one or two hours of sleep. It was also common knowledge that Jaal was up and about almost as much as she was.

 

“Dr. T’Perro was alarmed at first, but after taking random samples of my vitals, she has determined that it is not detrimental to my health.” His voice was slightly gravelly, and she wondered whether it was from disuse or just the late hour.

 

Sara also chose not to point out that Lexi had said the exact opposite to her about her health.

 

“I was modifying the scope of my rifle, and needed a break.” He moved his arm to rest his elbow on the table, and propped his chin up with his hand. “And you?”

 

“Reports,” she said dryly, gesturing to the datapad half-heartedly. Her hands dropped back to her lap, resting against her thighs.

 

He chuckled, low and deep in his throat. “Surely there are better things that you could be doing?”

 

She smiled in response. “It has to be quiet.” She said it in a stage whisper.

 

Jaal leaned over and took one of her hands in his. She felt like a young girl again, because she felt a spark. Not an earthshattering electrocution, but more of a spreading warmth. “Tell me about your home Sara.”

 

He didn’t ask. By now he didn’t have to. She was used to him being inquisitive; just as she was an explorer of new planets, Jaal explored the lives and personal experiences of the tempest crew.

 

“I grew up on the citadel,” she began. “It was after Earth had been attacked by the Reaper. My parents were born there though.”

 

He did not ask about the Reaper, which she was thankful for. The mood was light and comfortable, and she was too tired to get into a heavy discussion about what could have been the downfall of Earth.

 

“I’ve seen pictures and vids,” he responded, “it looked beautiful.”

 

She’d have to find photos left behind by her parents and grandparents. She could imagine Jaal poring over them, examining every inch and every tiny detail. Asking a thousand questions, which wouldn’t bother her, because she wanted him to know her.

 

“The Citadel itself was fine, but nowhere near as diverse and breathtaking as Earth itself.” She sighed wistfully. Her memories of Earth were nothing but fond: the amazing vistas, gorgeous animals, stunning plants with lovely flowers.

 

Jaal rubbed his thumb over her path soothingly. “And Earth is what you’re looking to replicate?” He said thoughtfully. “Is it very similar to Aya?”

 

She paused to consider, not quite sure how to answer. Aya looked similar to parts of Earth, and she loved that it was close to water. She hadn’t seen enough of the planet to say for sure.

 

“I think at this point we’re all just looking for solid ground that we can call home.” It was a diplomatic response; not a direct answer, but also true.

 

He seemed to find no fault with her reply. He had a faraway look on his face. “I cannot say what the angara would do, were we in your position.”

 

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. His left hand still caressed her, as though it were an underlying routine that he did without conscious thought.

 

“Potentially, with more grace that crashlanding on an alien planet.” Her reply was self-deprecating, but said with humour. He grinned, showing his teeth briefly, still resting his head against his right hand which was propped up by the table.

 

“What are you looking at?” She asked, with a soft smile, curious about his curiosity.

 

“Sometimes, it is remarkable to me, how similar we are.” She stomach flipped. She was absurdly pleased with that assessment.

 

“Yet we are so different,” he finished. And then she was significantly less pleased.

 

“How do you mean?” Sara thought that she likely knew the answer to some extent. On occasion, she had even made similar observations. She wanted to learn more about them, him and her, and their similarities and differences as well as everyone in between.

 

Call it scientific interest, or an extension of her own penchant for inquiry.

 

She wanted to _know_ Jaal. To be in his select group of confidantes. Personally, she would be more than willing to share all parts of herself and her life with him. It sounded ridiculous, but she could no more fight it than she could fight against evolution.

 

He spoke, drawing her back to him. “You look different to us,” his right hand reached out to her, and he lightly ran the tip of his index finger along her jawline before returning his hand to the table. “Yet in these moments with you, when we are alone…” He trailed off with a faraway look in his eye.

 

She waggled the fingers of her hand, still ensnared in Jaal’s soft grip, needing to draw him back to her. Needing to hear the rest of his thought.

 

He smiled, and lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing little kisses to the tip of her index finger. “I feel as though we are the same, you and I.”

 

“Kindred spirits,” she replied. Sara surreptitiously moved her chair closer to him, sneaking forward to get closer to him. He kissed her palm. Their knees were touching now, as they faced each other both leaning in fractionally.

 

His mouth moved to her wrist, and he swiped his tongue over the soft skin there. Her pulse jumped. Sara could have kicked herself at her own inability to play it cool. Jaal grinned cockily, clearly impressed with himself.

 

He looked at her with heavy lids, and a twinkle in his eye. A secret light that she thought was just for her. She noticed that his eyes had darkened, and his pupils had widened, to the point where his irises were just thin blue borderlines.

 

His other hand moved off the table, and settled on her knee. Just lightly resting with seemingly no ulterior motive. Still she felt a spark, and spreading warmth inside her. Like her blood had become warmed honey moving inside her.

 

Her face inched closer to him, incredulous. “Was that you?” He just nodded, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to someone.

 

“Ryder,” Sara had no idea why he switched to her surname now, “may I kiss you?”

 

Her eyes fell to his mouth, and she tried to remember is his mouth were always such a deep pink. “Why are you asking me?” The thought passed unchecked through her mental filter.

 

When he answered, his voice was baritone, indescribably deep and low. “Is that no human custom?”

 

“Not so much anymore.”

 

He shrugged nonchalant. Then he used his grip on her wrist to pull her closer, and moved his other hand from her knee to the nape of her neck. And then he was kissing her.

 

He smelled earthy and natural, as he always did. She supposed that it must be his lotions.

 

His lips were soft but firm, moving slowly at first. She herself was having some sort of sensory overload. His tongue ran over her bottom lip, and he was warm, and oh so close now. It truly required some mental processing.

 

She felt her hands settle onto his shoulders, his fingers exerting light pressure in an effort to keep him close. She thought she heard him chuckle into her mouth. She sighed, opening to him.

 

Jaal took his opportunity, hand moving into her head to tip her head back. The angle allowed him deeper tastes of her, and she revelled in his study of her mouth. His tongue ran over her teeth, felt the silkiness of the inside of her cheeks, rubbed sensuously against her own, and drew noises from her which were soft yet obscene. He groaned in response to her, and they drew even closer to one another.

 

The kiss continued; flurries of roaming hands, curious tongues, and one playful nip from Sara. Jaal seemed surprised, but merely redoubled his efforts to become an expert in the anatomy of the human mouth.

 

It was she who broke away first. She wouldn’t have, were it not for her inability to get enough air. He stayed with her, forehead resting on hers as she took deep breaths and found her equilibrium. He was taking deep breaths as well, but they were more sedate.

 

“That was…” Sara trailed off. A combination of not having the right words, being completely overwhelmed by her body’s reaction to him, and not wanting to assume his feelings.

 

But he finished for her – “absolutely magnificent.”

 

She grinned, running her fingers over his shoulders and neck, before bringing his mouth back down to hers with a light touch on the back of his hand. He didn’t hesitate. He moved his lips over hers, teased her with his tongue, revelling in the sounds he brought from her.

 

Her hands explored him, touching his head and neck, running over his satiny skin and dipping into the folds that ran from his temple down to his shoulder. He reached his hand up, and tangled his fingers into her hair tilting her head and moving his mouth from her lips, down to her chin and along her jawline.

 

Beneath them, the door made a whooshing noise, and they heard a soft yawn. Sara froze, and Jaal continued down her neck, nuzzling the depressions in her collarbone. She thanked her lucky stars that she’d changed from her more formal uniform, into a singlet and pajama pants.

 

Peering over his shoulder, Sara could see a shock of red hair, meaning that Suvi was taking her shift at the bridge, her soft steps continuing down the walkway.

 

“Jaal!” She poked him in the ribs, as he continued to cover her collarbone in kisses unheeding of the Suvi. He paused to look up at her, as she tried to increase the distance between them by scooting her chair away from him.

 

“Yes, Sara?” A smirk toyed around the edges of his mouth, as he regarded her.

 

“We need to stop,” she faltered, as his hands kept roaming over her. His bioelectricity kept her warm and aroused. Had it not been for the interruption she would have happily continued to a full blown make out session. “Suvi will see us!”

 

He smiled and let her wiggle away from him. Regarding her with an amused expression, he stood from his chair, before leaning down to whisper into her ear:

“Just know that we are not finished.” She shivered, and nodded resolutely.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback and comments are appreciated, but kudos are lovely as well.


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